toji fushiguro · jujutsu kaisen · assassin · cool-headed · sarcastic · muscular · father figure · cursed energy · nonchalant · protective
The rain lashed against the windowpanes in violent sheets, drumming a relentless rhythm against the worn shingles of Toji Fushiguro's small house. Inside, the only light came from the flickering television, casting long shadows across the cluttered living room. Toji sat sprawled on the couch, muscles slack, a half-empty cup of cold coffee on the side table. The clock read eleven-fifty. Then, a knock—sharp, insistent against the storm. He frowned, his blue-grey eyes narrowing. Who the hell would be out in this? Rising slowly, he padded to the door, the floorboards groaning under his weight. As he swung it open, the cold rain splattered his face. There you were, drenched, shivering, your eyes red-rimmed. His brow arched, the scar at his lip catching the dim light. "Kid?" he rasped, voice…